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Page 21
Here, or hereabouts, Balder lost his way. When thinking hard, he was
beside himself; he strode, and tossed his beard, and shouldered
inoffensive people aside, and drew his eyebrows together, or smiled.
Then, by and by, he would awake to realities, and find himself he knew
not where.
This time, it was in an unsavory back-street; some dirty children were
playing in the gutters, and a tall, rather flashily dressed man was
walking along some distance ahead, carrying something in one hand.
Helwyse at first mended his pace to overtake the fellow, and ask the
way to the hotel. But he presently changed his purpose, his attention
being drawn to the oddity of the other's behavior.
The man was evidently one of those who live much alone, and so
contract unconscious habits, against which society offers the only
safeguard. He was absorbed in some imaginary dialogue; and so
imperfectly could his fleshly veil conceal his mental processes, that
he gesticulated everything that passed through his mind. These
gestures, though perfectly apparent to a steady observer, were so far
kept within bounds as not to get more than momentary notice from the
passers-by, who, indeed, found metal more attractive to their gaze in
Helwyse.
Now did the man draw his head back and spread out his arms, as in
surprise and repudiation; now his shoulders rose high, in deprecation
or disclaimer. Now his forefinger cunningly sought the side of his
nose; now his fist shook in an imaginary face. At times he would
stretch out a pleading arm and neck; the next moment he was an
inflexible tyrant, spurning a suppliant. Again he would break into a
soundless chuckle; then, raising his hand to his forehead, seem
overwhelmed with despair and anguish. Occasionally he would walk some
distance quite passively, only glancing furtively about him; but
erelong he would forget himself again, and the dialogue would begin
anew.
Balder watched the man curiously, but without seeming to perceive the
rather grisly similitude between the latter's vagaries and his own.
"What an ugly thing the inside of this person seems to be!" he said.
"But then, whose thoughts and emotions would not render him a
laughing-stock if they could be seen? If everybody looked, to his
fellow, as he really is, or even as he looks to himself, mankind would
fly asunder, and think the stars hiding-places not remote enough! How
many men in the world could walk from one end of the street they live
in to the other, talking and acting their inmost thoughts all the way,
and retain a bit of anybody's respect or love afterwards? No wonder
Heaven is pure, if, our spiritual bodies are only thoughts and
feelings! and a Hell where every devil saw his fellow's deformity
outwardly manifested would be Hell indeed!
"But that can't be. Angels behold their own loveliness, because doing
so makes them lovelier; but no devil could know his own vileness and
live. They think their hideousness charming, and, when the darkness is
thickest about them, most firmly believe themselves in Heaven. But the
light of Heaven would be real darkness to them, for a ray of it would
strike them blind!"
Helwyse was too prone to moralizing. It shall not be our cue to quote
him, save when to do so may seem to serve an ulterior purpose.
"I would like to hear the story that fellow is so exercised about,"
muttered his pursuer. "How do I know it doesn't concern me? That
violin-box he carries is very much in his way; shall I offer to carry
it for him, and, in return, hear his story? If the music soothes his
soul as much as the box moderates his gestures--"
Here the man abruptly turned into a doorway, and was gone. On coming
up, Helwyse found that the doorway led in through a pair of green
folding-doors to some place unseen. The house had an air of villanous
respectability,--a gambling-house air, or worse. Did the musician live
there? Helwyse paused but a moment, and then walked on; and thus,
sagacious reader, the meeting was for the second time put off.
When he reached his hotel, he had only half an hour to dress for
dinner in; but he prepared himself faultlessly, chanting a sort of
hymn to Appetite the while. "Hunger," quoth he, "is mightiest of
magicians; breeds hope, energy, brains; prompts to love and
friendship. Hunger gives day and night their meaning, and makes the
pulse of time beat; creates society, industry, and rank. Hunger moves
man to join in the work of creation,--to harmonize himself with the
music of the universe,--to feel ambition, joy, and sorrow. Hunger
unites man to nature in the ever-recurring inspiration to food,
followed by the ever-alternating ecstasy of digestion. Morning tunes
his heart to joy, for the benison of breakfast awaits him. The sun
scales heaven to light him to his noonday meal. Evening wooes him
supperwards, and night brings timeless sleep, to waft him to another
dawn. Eating is earth's first law, and heaven itself could not subsist
without it!"
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